


Back to Front

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Matchmaking, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Secret Relationship, matchmaker maria hill, their friends mean well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Everyone but Clint and Coulson seem to know they'd be the perfect couple, and Natasha is determined to make them see that too.





	Back to Front

“Does anyone have eyes on the target?”

“Is that a trick question, boss?” Clint asked.

“ _You're_ supposed to be on radio silence,” Coulson replied.

“What, and leave your baby agents without a running commentary on the bad guys approaching on their six?”

A small exhale of air was the only expression of emotion Coulson allowed himself. “Timothy, Greaves, please tell me you haven't walked straight into a trap?”

There was a burst of static and then the clear sound of Clint readying his bow. “Boss?”

“Take the shot, Hawkeye,” Coulson said, slumping back into his seat.

The Comms Officer next to him covered his laugh with a cough, and then flicked a few switches. “Agent Hill says you owe her dinner, sir."

Coulson looked at the man then behind him to where Natasha was openly smirking.

“I told you they weren't ready.”

“That's not why I put them forward for the test,” Coulson said.

“Then why did you?” Natasha asked.

“He wanted to see if they were redeemable,” Clint said, as he pulled open the door of the surveillance van. “My take would be a big fat no."

“I hope your written report will be slightly more detailed.”

“I wouldn't bet on it.”

* * * * *

The assessment Clint left on Coulson's desk later that evening was as detailed as Coulson had known it would be, concisely pinpointing everything that was wrong with Timothy and Greaves' approach to fieldwork, but also made some suggestions for departments in SHIELD that would be a better fit for them. They so closely mirrored Coulson's own assessment that if Clint's printed version didn't have a smear of melted cheese in one corner he'd have had a hard time telling them apart.

As it was he was able to send everything over to Fury's office and leave his own office before 7.30pm which was a definite win on a Friday.

“You're leaving early,” Maria commented as they both entered the elevator.

“I could say the same,” Coulson replied. “Hot date?”

Maria gave him a look that would have melted most people on the spot. “I lost a bet with Fury, so now I have to go babysit Stark at some fundraiser for god knows what. But at least I have dinner on you to look forward to.”

“The Golden Dragon on Tuesday?”

“Damn straight,” she replied. “Speaking of people you should be taking to dinner,” Maria whispered through the corner of her mouth as the elevator opened onto the lobby.

Coulson muttered, “will you shut up” in her direction but she just laughed and gave Clint, who had been talking to the receptionist, a smile that made Clint frown.

“Am I about to be retired or something?” he asked Coulson. “Hill never smiles.”

“She does when she's blackmailing people,” Coulson muttered.

Clint's frown deepened until Coulson laughed softly.

“It's just a private joke, Clint. Nothing you need worry about.”

Clint didn't look convinced. “I didn't think Hill made jokes.”

Coulson smiled slightly. “See you tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

* * * * *

Coulson was on the intruder the minute the window in his seventh floor apartment slid open. He pulled at the other man, fighting a moment with cool determination before his knees hit the bed and he was falling, a heavy body on top of him.

“I need to get you a key,” Coulson said.

“I like the climb,” Clint replied, finally helping Coulson to pull off his jacket.

“It's not your climbing I'm worried about,” Coulson muttered, but Clint was straddling him and pressing kisses into his neck and chest.

“I thought I was the one that talked too much?” Clint finally asked. Coulson rolled his eyes, flipped them over and then proceeded to undo Clint's trousers with his teeth.

* * * * *

“Shit, shit, shit."

Coulson slowly blinked awake. At first he wondered if Clint had changed his ringtone in the middle of the night again and then he realised that it was Clint himself cursing in his bedroom and not some recording.

“I know,” Clint said before Coulson could say anything. “ _I know.”_

Clint was half-dressed, socks inside out, shirt unbuttoned and a coffee stain slowly dripping down his light blue jeans.

“I feel like I shouldn't have to tell you not to try and drink coffee and get dressed at the same time,” Coulson said, sleepily amused.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't.”

Coulson sank back a little in the bed. “I should talk to Fury.”

“Fury won't care,” Clint said. “It's us that's the problem.”

Coulson frowned, but they'd had this discussion, this argument, before. Clint didn't want the world knowing his business and that was that.

“Yeah, okay,” Clint said, even though Coulson hadn't said anything. “I'm the problem.”

“You're not,” Coulson said. “But we really need to remember to set the alarm properly,” he added, aiming for levity.

Clint looked sheepish. “Or not hit the snooze button over and over.”

Coulson sat up and motioned for Clint to come closer, then pulled him into a deep kiss before just as suddenly letting go and sorting out his clothing.

“It's only a month,” Clint said.

“I know. Keep safe.”

“I will,” Clint said, resting his forehead against Coulson's. “And if not, Nat's got my back on this one.”

* * * * *

“You should ask him out,” Natasha said.

She was sitting next to Clint's hospital bed eating chocolate covered cherries and flicking though an old copy of _Vogue._

“We've had this conversation before,” Clint said, studiously staring up at the ceiling.

“SHIELD doesn't have a fraternisation policy,” Natasha said, “and we know Phil likes men.”

“Because of Phoenix,” Clint interrupted. “Yeah.” And hadn't that been an eye-opening evening?

“I just think you should give it a go.” She finally looked up from her magazine. “Your dry spell has turned into a desert.”

“I'm fine the way things are.”

Natasha looked unconvinced but settled for humming to herself and going back to her magazine.

Clint wondered why he was so thoroughly incapable of making the right choices in the right order.

* * * * *

“I can't stay long,” Coulson said, risking a quick kiss to the side of Clint's head. “I leave for Gaborone in the morning.”

“What's in Gaborone?” Clint asked.

“Hopefully not aliens.”

Clint grinned. “You'd love to meet a real life alien, and you know it.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Coulson replied with a smile. “Nat's with me on this one, I'll be fine.”

* * * * *

Gaborone wasn't fine but there were no aliens and nobody broke any bones so Coulson and Fury agreed to call it a win.

“What's going on with you and Barton?” Fury asked, as they finished up their telephone debrief.

“He's very flexible,” Coulson said, before his mind stuttered to a stop. “I – with his – we should put him in the field more.”

“Pretend I never asked,” Fury said, and then hung up.

This, Coulson thought, is what forty-nine hours without sleep does to a person's mind. He left Clint a heads-up on his voicemail, on the off chance Fury made anything of it, and then slept for twelve hours straight.

* * * * *

“Anything else?” Maria said.

She and Natasha were debriefing over their last mission and gearing up to leave for St Petersburg in a couple of days. Natasha always got a little edgy when she had to head back to the Motherland and this lead her to make really stupid decisions.

“Do you want to help me set Phil and Clint up?” she asked.

Maria blinked twice before answering. “Sure, why not. I've nothing better to do tonight.”

* * * * *

When Coulson arrived at the restaurant he found it was completely empty except for Clint, who was dressed up in an honest to god suit that made Coulson get half hard just thinking about peeling it off him.

“Phil? I thought Nat was...” He trailed off, picked up a breadstick and snapped it in half. Coulson sat down opposite him.

“Maria said there was a VIP I needed to meet. At least she was right about something.”

Clint rolled his eyes but smiled anyway as Coulson moved a little closer, his foot rubbing Clint's ankle.

“What are we going to do about this?” Coulson asked.

Clint looked conflicted and Coulson tried not to take it personally, this was Clint's issue, and no reflection on them, Clint had been very clear about that.

“If being open about this doesn't work out,” Clint said, very carefully looking at a spot just over Coulson's shoulder, “we don't get to put the genie back.”

Coulson, by sheer force of will, didn't allow his disappointment to show on his face.

“We move at your pace,” he said. “Always.”

Clint nodded and they agreed they may as well eat but everything Coulson sampled tasted like ash.

* * * * *

“Fury doesn't care, if that's what you're worried about,” Maria said. Coulson frowned.

“I think Fury's going to care very much if these weapons end up on the black market.”

“You know that's not what I was talking about.”

“Do I?”

Maria pursed her lips, clearly thought better about saying anything else, and handed Coulson details of his next mission.

* * * * *

“No one will care,” Natasha said, hitting Clint's legs out from under him. “If that's what you're worried about.”

Clint zigged when he should have zagged and was only saved from a nasty black eye because Natasha was pulling her punches.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Are you telling me you didn't like your dinner last night?” she asked, barely out of breath as she pinned Clint to the mat.

“Food was great,” Clint replied, twisting out of her grasp and failing to pin her down in return.

“And the company?”

“Coulson's a friend,” Clint said, and snagged them both a bottle of water, half of which he tipped over his own head.

“You could be more than that, if you wanted.”

Clint sighed. “Why is this suddenly so important to everyone? When did I give up my right to a private life?”

Natasha frowned and considered the question carefully. “I'm sorry, I just thought it would be a nice thing if you two admitted your feelings.”

“Who says there are any feelings to acknowledge?” Clint replied.

“Melbourne,” Natasha said. She looked at Clint, waiting for him to confirm or deny, and when he did neither she went to hit the showers.

* * * * *

“Do you remember Melbourne?” Clint asked.

He was lying next to Coulson in Coulson's bed, sweaty and aching in all the best places. It was still light out and he could hear sirens in the distance through the still half-open window.

“Of course. Two months of planning went to hell in less than 40 seconds. It was pretty impressive really.” Coulson twisted around in the sheets so he could press a quick kiss to Clint's shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

“Nat thinks that's when this,” he waved his hand between the two of them, “should have started.”

“I can see that. Fighting side by side, hearts racing, trapped in a windowless room for four hours handcuffed to each other...love songs have been written on less.”

Clint laughed. “I don't think that's what she meant.”

Coulson smiled up at Clint. “I think that's exactly what she meant. And Maria. And Jasper. And Blake. And everybody else who's got a bet in the pool.”

Clint frowned. “You know about that?”

“Jasper isn't subtle,” Coulson replied. He shifted to sit up in bed, nudging Clint with his shoulder. “Is that why you don't want anyone to know about us?”

“I thought so. Now – now I don't know.”

“It's nobody's business but ours,” Coulson said after a moment.

“And Nat?” Clint said.

Coulson turned to him, surprised. “Nat? Why -”

“She's outside.”

Coulson got up and padded to the window to find a sheepish looking Natasha perched on the windowsill of his neighbour's apartment.

“Hey Phil. Fancy seeing you here.”

* * * * *

Coulson made coffee and since he was feeling hungry – sex with Clint was better than any workout at the gym – he made them sandwiches as well.

“So, this looks bad,” Natasha said. She paused, waiting for someone to disagree and when they didn't she ploughed on. “I just wanted to check Coulson wasn't secretly dating someone before we moved on to the next part of the plan.”

“We?” Coulson asked.

“Next part?” Clint asked.

“Maria,” Natasha explained. “Sending you off on a mission together where the chances of you needing to hide out in a secluded cabin in the woods was high.”

“I feel like I'm in a bad Mills and Boon,” Coulson said. He took a sip of his coffee and tried to gauge how Clint was feeling about all this. So far all he'd done was sit stony faced as Natasha had apologised for interrupting.

“Who has the biggest bet in the pool?” Clint finally asked.

Natasha got out her phone to check. “Fury has $2,000 on you getting together by Tuesday. If he doesn't win, the pot gets donated to a children's charity.”

“So, Phil,” Clint asked, grinning with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What are you doing on Thursday?”

* * * * * *

When Thursday came around Coulson and Natasha were sat in the canteen trying to work out what the special of the day was supposed to be, since it definitely didn't look or taste like spaghetti bolognese. There was a commotion near the door and Clint walked in, headed straight for Coulson and straddled him, nearly tipping their chair over in the process.

“You're still sure about this?” Coulson asked.

Clint's answer was to kiss him like his life depended on it, pressing himself into Coulson and moaning obscenely as Coulson put his arms around him.

There was a stunned silence and then the room erupted into wolf whistles and cheers from those who hadn't been in the pool, and groans and curses from those who had.

“Get back to work, people!” Fury's voice cut through the noise, followed by the screeching of chairs as all but a brave few fled the room.

Fury sat down next to Natasha and helped himself to a forkful of her lunch before making a disgusted face and dropping the fork back on the table.

“We need better caterers,” he said, before turning to where Clint and Coulson were waiting expectantly. “This better not have been for my benefit,” he said, and then left as abruptly as he had arrived.

* * * * *

Later that day Coulson found Clint lightly dozing on the sofa in his office. He wasn't fooled into thinking that Clint hadn't noticed his arrival back from two hours of briefings with Jasper followed by twenty minutes of shameless gossip, but he moved as quietly as he could around the room anyway, clearing the most urgent files off his desk and answering his email.

Finally he was done and he realised after a moment that Clint had been watching him for some time.

“Everything okay?” Coulson asked.

Clint shifted to sit up properly and looked around the room.

“Nothings changed,” he said. “I thought if people knew about us – the world might change, or I might change, I guess. But I still feel the same about you as I did six months ago. Hell, six years ago. The world knows and that hasn't changed a thing.”

“Six years?” Coulson said, around the sudden lump in his throat.

Clint ducked his head a little shyly. “Since, you know, Seville.”

Coulson tried to think about the last time he'd been in Seville but other than a routine milk run he couldn't think of anything out of the ordinary that had happened there.

“What happened in Seville exactly?” Coulson asked. “I remember babysitting the AIM scientist who defected, but otherwise...”

“That's just it,” Clint said. “Nothing happened. We watched the scientist, read the paper, caught up on TV, nobody tried to kill us and we didn't have to kill anyone. It was nice. Normal.” He shifted a little, still looking at the ground and then straightened his shoulders and looked directly at Coulson. “That's when I realised I could have everything with you I wanted – the crazy times and the quiet ones. It just took a few years for me to work out if that's what you wanted too.”

Coulson was momentarily speechless before retuning Clint's smile with one of his own, and he returned to an idea that had been slowly forming in his mind for the last few weeks.

“Clint,” he asked, “do you want to move in with me?”

Clint grinned and stood up as Coulson pulled him into a kiss. “Absolutely,” he whispered against Coulson's lips.

And the next day Clint moved his few possessions into Coulson's apartment.

He still used the window to get in every now and again though, just for tradition's sake.


End file.
